


φοῖνιξ

by spiderstanspiderstan



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Babies, Gen, Infant Death, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), forced miscarrage, pregnancy horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-08 05:06:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14687106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiderstanspiderstan/pseuds/spiderstanspiderstan
Summary: Prompt: "Like a phoenix, they will rise from these ashes."The world is dust and desolation, and a single, sharp cry.





	φοῖνιξ

**Author's Note:**

> Note: In this fic, for the purposes of the snap, babies in utero count as separate people.

Crying.

  
Michelle stumbled through the ankle-deep sludge that filled the city’s streets. A combination of rain and burst pipes, cars smashing into fire hydrants, hosepipes thrashing wild when let go of for the last time had turned the ashes to a sea of thick, grey mud.  It soaked through her shoes, getting her feet wet, the ashy sludge squishing between her toes. She’d peeled off her socks and rolled up her baggy jeans when the rain began, and she was beginning to regret that. Above her, the sky was a boiling sea of gold and steel, sunset storm clouds overlapping with the smoke of spontaneous fires.

And she could hear crying.

A plane had gone down, leaving a meteor-strike of a trail dug through what used to be her apartment block. Both of the pilots gone. She’d been walking for hours, getting back. There was no subway anymore- too many trains had collided, too many tracks went switched, too many people had clambered free from derailed carriages. She’d gone home because she wanted her books- to thumb through reminders of the family she’d had, to take solace in blueprints for rebuilding the world. Now, her copy of _The Conquest Of Bread_ was lost somewhere underneath a twisted wreck of bricks and metal.

An infant, shrieking in her auditory periphery.

Her baby sister had gone to dust in her arms. Michelle had cried, too, and choked on the ashes of everyone around her. Her mother’s embrace had faded as she ceased to exist.

They’d fled into the subway stations like it was the London blitz, like they could escape an alien invasion with a few thin layers of dirt and concrete. It had worked the last time. Michelle had only been little but she remembered huddling in a basement with her hands over her ears, listening to the world end.

They hadn’t even had time to make the trains stop.

  
She reached into her pocket, brushed the pad of her thumb over the plastic rim of Tammy’s pacifier, the last souvenir she had, and turned towards the sound of crying, sheltered in the shadow of the aluminium carcass of the plane.  

It was coming from the prenatal health centre on the corner.

Someone had taken their baby. That was it- someone had taken their baby, an older sibling, and it had been left when they vanished with the rest of the dead. That was all that had happened, because the alternative was nauseating to the point of being imparsable. The windows of the health centre were blocked out with a mosaic of flyers- for therapy, free contraceptives, helpline on helpline on helpline, hiding any clues she could have seen through.

As she got closer, Michelle could smell the coppery tang of blood. There seemed to be oceans of it- trailing out from the doorway into the ashes, red mixing to a muddy brown in the grey. In dribbling lines, as if someone had bled out on their way along the street.

There was nothing but a door between her and the sound, now. Glossy purple paint, a flat push-panel, not even giving her the hesitation of turning a handle.

The ash inside was mostly dry, being slowly pushed into drifts by the lazy rotations of a still-connected fan on the receptionist’s desk. Flakes of it danced in the thin lines of sunlight that made  it between the fliers. The phone was off the hook, humming out a steady, obnoxious tone. Cheery, brightly-coloured posters shone out from the walls, their stock-photo models smiling like Stepford wives.

No sign of people; not even _corpses_. The place was deserted, except for that high, keening cry.

Moving through the waiting area- towards the sound, towards _something_ , because god knew she had no other guidance- she could see damp patches. Nestled in the clouds of ash, some hummocked in the drifting grey, things that looked at a glance like grocery bags, spilling their wetness through the powder of people.

Michelle ignored them, and ignored the flesh-red curling shapes that emerged from the dust. Twig thin-limbs, half the thickness of her smallest fingers, being swallowed by the drifts. The sickening smell of meat.

The crying was coming from one of the rooms off the main hallway, behind a wooden door. This one had a handle- giving Michelle a second of respite, to try and catch her breath, to wonder what the hell she was doing.

Saving a life, or trying to. Looking out for the literal little guy, the little corner of the world she could comprehend right now.

She pushed open the door, slowly to minimise the amount of dust she sent into the air. Already the apocalypse was starting to affect her body mechanics.

The baby was tiny, but alive, alive and screaming, writhing on the paper of the examination table, blanketed partially by its own placenta. There was less blood than she’d expected- this had not been a birth in the conventional sense. Most of the dampness of amniotic fluid had been absorbed by the ubiquitous powder- the last remains of the person who’d been _carrying_ the infant.

Said infant looked… okay, for a tiny new baby. Dark, healthy-looking skin peeked out in places from the thin veneer of grey powder, and the kid clearly  had a decent set of lungs. When Michelle stepped closer, she could see that its soles and palms were a vibrant, living pink. Carefully- already giving up on keeping her jacket remotely clean- she picked the baby up.

It was a warm, wet weight, the sobs slowing into a whine against her chest. Big, dark eyes blinked up at her as she adjusted her arms, cradling the baby to support its head, like she’d done with Tammy when she was smaller. For a moment, anger rose hot in her chest, and she realised just how delicate this little creature’s skull was. Why did _this_ kid get to live? The thought was so cold in her that it stung her, like touching dry ice- the thought that it wouldn’t have mattered, really, if this kid had gone to ashes before even being born. Tammy had already established a place in the world, people who loved her. No-one was left to miss this one.

“Hey, beautiful.” Michelle said, instead, pressing a kiss to the baby’s grimy forehead.

She could do this much.

Newborns got hypothermia very easily. She knew that, at least. She set the baby down again- more crying, immediately, the shrill wail digging into her ears- and stripped off her shirt.

There was still cell signal; she’d semi-effectively swaddled the baby and was halfway through an article on how to cut an umbilical cord, mentally taking stock of all the things she’d need, formula and diapers and wipes and ever on- when she realised.

For this baby, there was no _before_.

They- she, going by the genitalia- wouldn’t have to remember the world as it had stood hours ago.

This new world- which would emerge from the ashes of the old one, built on the breakdown of their society, of the desperate caring instinct that kept humanity alive through utter catastrophe- might just be better.

Michelle reached into her jacket pocket. Clipped Tammy’s pacifier to the baby’s makeshift blanket, and carried her outside, to look up at the first night sky of a new age.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on my new fic tumblr [here!](http://na-no-why-mo.tumblr.com)


End file.
